by Varna, Lucy
“Hmm.” She sighed into his throat, inhaled, and caught a hint of cologne mingling with the faint hint of sharply scented soap. “I missed this.”
“Dancing?” He huffed out a laugh, ruffling her hair, and rubbed one hand across the low of her back. “Where were you?”
“Busy.”
“So busy you had to break your word to me?”
She stiffened, tried to draw back, and was held exactly where she was, tightly pressed against him. “I never break my word.”
“You were supposed to be here days ago.”
“I was busy,” she said, enunciating each word.
“And you’re not going to tell me what you were doing?”
“I owe you no such explanation.”
He stilled and eased away from her. One hand slid up her back and cupped her nape under her braid, pinning her as surely as he had when he’d led her onto the dance floor. “Do you want me?”
She arched one eyebrow. “Have I not made that clear?”
“No, you haven’t. Look.” His hand squeezed her nape, gentle for all his strength. “No games, ok? If you can’t play it straight with me, if you can’t be here when you say you will, then it’s a no go. I’m not going to let you toy with me.”
“I’m not—”
His mouth came down on hers, silencing her words, and she opened for him without meaning to, opened and softened and met him kiss for kiss as her fingers twisted into his shirt and his hands tangled in her hair. Her heart rocketed in her chest, racing so fast, she could scarcely catch her breath, and still, Will kissed her, touched her, gentled her.
His fingers dug into her skin for one brief moment, then he drew back and touched his forehead to hers. A solid erection pressed into her lower stomach, just above the juncture of her thighs, and his breath shuddered out of him with every beat of his heart against hers.
“Never lie to me,” he said. “Not ever.”
She nodded mutely, too overwhelmed by their shared passion to deny him.
They danced to the end of the song, holding each other at a sedate distance, belying the desire racing through Sigrid’s blood. His kiss, that beautiful, achingly real kiss. She didn’t know what to make of it, couldn’t think around the heat ricocheting within her, and so when the song ended and another took its place, she allowed him to lead her back to the bar, accepted the fresh lager he built for her, and spent the rest of the evening observing the man who’d stolen her reason with the intensity of one kiss.
Chapter Seven
The dance with Sigrid lingered in Will’s mind the rest of Friday and well into his dreams that night. Saturday morning, he awoke restless, edgy, and so hard, he could barely walk.
It was ridiculous how easily she aroused him.
As soon as he rolled out of bed, he texted Ethan Phillips, the People’s local doctor and a cousin on Will’s mother’s side, and arranged to meet the other Son in midmorning at the gym in Clayton. Sex was off the menu. Lifting weights wasn’t the best substitute, but it was better than nothing.
During the drive into the nearby town, Will’s thoughts inevitably turned to Sigrid. She’d been beautiful last night, radiant, like a goddess risen from the North Atlantic, cold and deadly and fierce.
Until that kiss.
Desire flickered through him, and he shifted in the seat of his truck, spreading his knees wide to accommodate his burgeoning erection. Sweet Mother, she’d felt so good rubbing up against him with her hands on his chest and her mouth so giving under his. Another kiss like that, and he might drag her into his office and take her whether they were both ready or not.
He wasn’t.
The lone car ahead of him slowed as it approached a steep curve near the local public library. Will eased off the gas and applied the brake automatically, his thoughts tangled in a knot over Sigrid.
Did she want him or not? And if she did, was he really prepared for what that entailed? Two years of wanting her might not be enough when push came to shove. Or maybe it would weaken him to her, breaking him when he most needed to stand firm, and in the doing, he would lose her.
Ahead, the other car’s left turn signal blinked on, and it turned onto the back street leading to downtown. Will waited for it to clear the lane, then matched his truck’s speed to the posted limit as he drove past the library and the civic center into downtown Clayton.
She enjoyed his kisses, that was pretty damn clear, and she claimed to want him. Why else would she take the time to track down his name and address, take him to lunch, and make a point of dancing with him?
Then again, why had she broken her promise to meet him earlier in the week? If it was all a game to her, why had she bothered to come back to The Omega? True, it was the only nightlife in Tellowee and a lot of the local People gathered there, but there were other options if she really needed to get out. Clayton wasn’t that far away and it had its fair share of restaurants and live music, especially in the summer. The music scene was slower now that true winter had arrived, but not that slow. There were still plenty of outsiders wandering through to keep things interesting.
Will huffed out a sigh, negotiated the last few turns into the gym’s parking lot, and parked. It was pointless to dwell on a Daughter’s reasons for doing anything. Sigrid would tell him what was going on or not, and nothing he said or did would change her mind either way. So far, the only thing that worked on her was kissing her into silence.
Oddly enough, he was ok with that.
A sleek, black Tesla Model S pulled up beside Will’s truck. He snagged his gym bag, slid out of his truck, and grinned at Ethan over the top of the other Son’s car. “Snazzy ride.”
Ethan laughed and slammed his car door shut. “You’re just aiming for a turn behind the wheel.”
“Absolutely.”
They met on the sidewalk and walked in together, a sharp contrast in looks, if not in build. Ethan was maybe two inches taller than Will and had darker skin and auburn hair, though they both shared the light green eyes that seemed to pop up in random intervals in their line of the family, no doubt inherited from some captured mate. It wasn’t unusual for Daughters to kidnap men with uncommon traits and breed with them, hoping to improve their offspring’s chances of surviving in a world that too often sought to destroy them.
The gym was packed with men and women of all ages and shapes. Will nodded at two Daughters he knew more by sight than anything, then he and Ethan headed toward the men’s locker room, ignoring the gazes of the mortal women tracking their progress.
They’d worked out together enough to understand each other’s routines. By unspoken consent, they headed for the free weights, eschewing the machines, and settled into a steady, upper body workout. No competitive muscle flexing, no adversarial remarks, just the nice, relaxing burn of man versus iron.
During a lull between biceps curls and bench presses, Ethan rubbed a towel over his face, drying off the sweat, and leveled a speculative gaze on Will. “So tell me, cuz. How does a Son handle two Daughters in one night?”
Will’s heart thumped once. He snagged his bottle of water and hid his nerves behind a long, slow sip. Friggin’ grapevine. Nobody could get away with anything in Tellowee without rumor spreading like wildfire.
He set the water aside, then adjusted the weights for the next set of reps. “If you came by The Omega more often, you’d figure that one out for yourself.”
Ethan shot Will a wicked grin, flashing even, white teeth. “I don’t have to stoop to bar crawling to get my women.”
“Yet somehow you managed to lose Serafina Noland to Levi Ewart.”
Ethan’s grin morphed into a sour scowl. “Low blow, man.”
“All’s fair in love and war.” Will jerked his chin at the weights. “Are we going to work out or what?”
“Work out.” Ethan laid down on the bench, curled his hands around the bar above him, and adjusted his position relative to it. “You’ve never been much for talking about women, but this evasiveness is bad, even
for you.”
Will settled at the head of the bench, in the spotter’s position. “Stop psychoanalyzing me, Doc.”
“I mean it.”
“I danced with two women in one night. Any other time you’d be congratulating me.”
“Any other time, I wouldn’t worry about your being in the middle of an epic catfight.” Ethan lifted the weighted bar off its supports and lowered it slowly to his chest. His breath hissed out steadily as he raised it high again. “Speaking of catfights, it’s been a while since we’ve had an exhibition.”
“School has one every month.”
“For the kids, yeah. What about for us? Grown men need to vent their aggression on a regular basis.”
Will grinned down at his cousin. “Is that your way of saying you want to have a go at Levi for stealing Serafina away from you?”
Ethan’s muttered curse ended in a huff as he finished his first set. “Just set one up. It’ll take all our minds off what’s going on.”
“Yeah, and help settle the restless natives, too.”
Will and Ethan exchanged positions. Will worked through half his reps, then said, “How’s the hospital doing on medical supplies?”
Ethan arched an eyebrow at Will. “I hadn’t planned on drawing blood when I dragged Levi onto the mat.”
Since Levi had just married his pretty little mortal, there was a good chance Ethan would be the one bleeding at the end of any fight between the two men, sanctioned or not.
Will shrugged off the possibilities, finished his reps, and set the bar back in its support. Ethan could take care of himself, the same as any Son, though most shied away from pursuing another Son’s woman. Nobody wanted a war with another family, especially when that other family included a Daughter like Hawthorne the Beheader, a newly appointed member of the Council of Seven. Will’s grandmother would feel duty bound to intercede on behalf of her long dead sister, Ethan’s ancestress. Since Anya was also a member of the People’s ruling body, the rift between her and Hawthorne could tear the People apart, just when they most needed to unite.
Will sat up and shook the faint muscle burn out of his arms. “We’ve got a lot of new faces in town.”
“Including one of the Daughters you danced with.” At Will’s even glance, Ethan shrugged. “Small town.”
“Yeah, well, we’re liable to get a huge influx of new faces into that small town over the next few weeks.”
“Rebecca’s been talking to you, too, huh?”
“Yeah. So, about those medical supplies.”
“We’re working on it.”
“Let me know if you need help stocking up or finding a place to store stuff. I may want you to go over the supplies stored at the Archives, too, and you might want to think about stocking up on blood, if you can.”
Ethan stilled, his expression suddenly serious. “It’s that bad?”
“Maybe, maybe not.” Though in his gut, Will was beginning to feel the storm gathering around them. “Never hurts to be prepared.”
“I’ll second that.”
They finished their workout and arranged to meet early Monday afternoon for a game of one on one at the Rec Department’s gym in Tiger, south of Clayton. Will wiggled a promise out of Ethan to drop by The Omega that night, then he headed home and got ready for work, his body loose, his mind clearer than when he’d first awoken.
The morning after her dance with Will, Sigrid rose well before her usual waking time and grumbled into a steaming hot cup of coffee. What had gotten into her of late? He was just a man, like the many she’d had before, no more or less important than any other, and that’s exactly what had kept her sane through her centuries-long life.
He’d seemed reluctant.
She sighed and rubbed gritty eyes with her fingers, then plodded into her bathroom and set her coffee mug on the counter next to the sink. The problem here wasn’t Will. It was her strategy. Obviously the few days she’d needed to sort through her own intentions had driven a small wedge between them and cooled his ardor. That was in the past now and couldn’t be helped, but doubt remained in her mind over which path to take. Push him to accede to her demands, or give him time to grow accustomed to her?
So many doubts, where none had ever before dwelt.
She shook them off, twisted her hair into a knot. An itchy restlessness remained, crawling under her skin. It was almost as if she were girding for battle. That’s what the feeling reminded her of, only in this instance, the stakes weren’t her death or Will’s, but their possible future.
It sounded so permanent when she thought of it in that manner.
Work. That would distract her from these useless ruminations. Focusing on another task, an important one, would give her the distance she needed to cultivate a clear, objective view of the situation with Will. It was Saturday, true, and he expected her at The Omega later that evening, but until then, she needed to burn off the restless energy plaguing her.
A workout first, then work, and later, another dance.
Schedule settled, she slipped on workout clothes, left her coffee in the kitchen, and threw herself into a rigorous routine usually reserved for preparation for competitions or war.
Three hours later, reheated coffee in hand, Sigrid settled behind her desk in her office on the IECS campus, her mind much clearer. Someone had left a stack of DNA test results in her inbox, each one neatly filed in a color-coded manila folder. She selected the top folder, opened it, and began studying the enclosed reports.
As she’d expected, work absorbed every ounce of her attention, and she lost herself in the possibilities arrayed before her. Which Daughters lines were true, which had been altered over time by lost stories or records and the insertion of speculation. Much of that could only be sorted by comparing the records that had survived against the well-documented lineages of other Daughters. Mitochondrial DNA alone could never answer the question as to which Sister a Daughter could claim descent from, or what that Daughter’s true heritage was, as the distance in time between ancestor and descendant was too short. Mutations occurred only rarely, on a scale estimated at twice the length of time between the modern era and the time in which the Sisters lived. Only a chance mutation in Abragni’s line sorted her descendants from descendants of the other six Sisters, and it, if Sigrid’s hypothesis was correct, had originated in the rumored youngest of the Seven herself.
More testing would confirm that, but only if the eldest of the living elders submitted to the tests.
Genealogical records would aid in the construction or reconstruction of those lineages as well. Sigrid etched a note into her calendar to contact Robert Upton the following Monday, and nearly cursed as a memory popped into her head, of Will telling her of his volunteer work with the Blade’s husband.
A knock on her door interrupted the remembrance. Sigrid looked up and found George hovering in her doorway, file folder in hand.
“Hey,” he said, and cleared his throat. “That blood you found in Director Upton’s house. The one you wanted tested?”
Sigrid stood and eased around the side of her desk. “Do we have results?”
“Yeah, uh. Here.” He handed her the file and stuffed clenched fists into too loose trousers, then launched into a rapid-fire explanation. “I let somebody else run the tests first. One of the new staff members? Just to see what he could do, only a couple of oddities cropped up, so I ran them again. That’s why it took so long to get them back. I’m really sorry about that. I just thought—”
She touched his upper arm briefly, halting the deluge of words. “I trust your judgment, Mr. Howe.” And she did, in genetics above all other matters. There, his judgment could not be questioned. “Walk me through these oddities.”
“Well, first there’s the fact that whoever this blood belongs to is nearly entirely of Near Eastern descent.”
“We have several groups of the People living in that area.”
He shook his head and his eyes gleamed. “No, not like this. Most of those indivi
duals show clear signs of intermarriage. Different ethnicities?”
“But not this one.”
“Nope. It’s like her family originated in the area and never left.”
Sigrid pursed her lips together. “Why is that significant?”
“Because it’s so rare. Don’t you see?”
He shook his head again, jabbed his fingers through overlong bangs, and paced away from her, his steps rapid and light. Abruptly, he whirled and stalked back to her, and his expression was so unlike his normally cowed mode, it startled her.
“Ok, look,” he continued. “We know the Sisters lived about ten thousand years ago, right? And that they originated in the Levant, probably somewhere near where agriculture first arose. Or that’s what I got from the Legend of Beginnings when I read it.”
“It’s probably an accurate portrayal,” Sigrid murmured, though she’d never thought of it quite like that.
“So when the Sisters were cursed, what’s the first thing they did? According to the genetic records and the tales I’ve heard.”
She narrowed her eyes on him. “Have you been digging around in the Archives?”
He shrugged. “Tom has and, you know. He tells us because we’re all in this together, right? I mean, what use is it to withhold information when sharing could expedite the whole process, help us reach better conclusions faster?”
She considered him for a moment, weighing his words. Rebecca had informed Sigrid of her intentions prior to reading the IECS’s resident male scholars in on the People’s largest secrets, but there had been no mention of the men colluding with one another. Still, it was a wise move on all their parts, though she could wish her young assistant had kept her in the loop as well.
Finally, she nodded. “Go on.”
“Ok, so the first thing they did was scatter, or one of the first things. Not right away, no, but within a couple hundred years. Genetically, record wise, and I’m talking oral tales here, passed down until they could be recorded.”
“Of course.” She’d written down several such tales herself after learning to read and write half a lifetime ago, tales of her own life and those passed down from mother to daughter through generations. “You have a point here, I assume.”